<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Shadow in the Pass by Alllien</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326441">A Shadow in the Pass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alllien/pseuds/Alllien'>Alllien</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Angst and Humor, Dark, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:40:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alllien/pseuds/Alllien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured elf stumbles into Imladris telling tales of shadows and Hollow Men, and Estel and Legolas set off to investigate the threat. A story of friendship (non-slash) between the ranger and the elf, told through adventure, angst, and a touch of humour.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1: A Shadow in the Pass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anar shone bright in the sky, its golden rays glittering off the rooftops of Imladris, and off the faces of the ranger and elf-prince who were sat in the arms of an oak-tree therein.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Much as I enjoy my father’s company, I must confess I am glad he has left for Mirkwood, for I find I have more freedom to enjoy the pleasures of your beautiful city once official matters are concluded,” said Legolas, a light smile gracing his delicate features. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thranduil and his Royal Company had left in the afternoon of the previous day. While officially the prince had been left behind to “help Estel train in archery”, in truth his father was hoping that time with the ranger would lift Legolas’s spirits, which seemed to have grown heavy from the darkness haunting the land as of late.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you don’t enjoy sitting in council-meetings from dawn til dusk, trying to decipher ancient scriptures, and determine how we should respond to the wandering orc-hordes? Surely you jest, my friend, that is the peak of excitement!” Estel said, mirth apparent in his tone. However, his comment did not land as intended, as he saw the smile slip from his friend’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“While your remarks are amusing,” the elf replied, with no discernible amusement, “they only remind me of the shadow - a shadow that has been growing for too long, and which for too long has remained nameless. There was a time when orcs and other such dark vermin would dare not wander the lands so freely. I wonder what emboldens them now to do so.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas paused for a thoughtful moment, before continuing more brightly, “Ai, but let us not dwell on such matters! The day is bright, and I believe I heard Elrohir speak of a cherry-tree grove not far into the woods, whose berries are sweet and ripe for picking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know the grove of which you speak,” replied Estel. A villainous look appeared in his eyes, “and I know just how to get there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, the ranger climbed higher into the oak, and leapt from a branch onto a nearby rooftop. He ran across the red tiles to the next courtyard, jumping to a tree therein, then another tree, then another roof. So natural did the movement come to him that he would have seemed indistinguishable from an elf to any mortal man, seeming to display the same grace and agility the Eldar were known for. However it was not mortal men by whom he was now perceived, and several elvish heads shook in disapproval at the loud steps clanging across their rooftops.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas grinned and leapt quickly after his friend, his quieter footsteps following in a steady rhythm after Estel. The pair quickly found themselves in open forest just outside the city, where the elf continued to follow the man through the trees. After just over an hour’s trek, when the glimmer of the red rooftops had faded from sight, they indeed came upon a stunning grove of trees. It was late enough in the summer that the trees were laden with sweet berries, and the ground was beginning to be painted with red juice from the overripe fruits that had already fallen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, it is even more beautiful than Elrohir described. Had it been my discovery, I am not sure I would have been generous enough to share it so soon!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are there not cherries here enough for many, elf? I thought princes were supposed to be generous and kind.” Estel mock-chided the prince.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Legolas’s only response was a melodious laugh which drifted lightly in the air, and he eagerly picked a handful of cherries to taste. They were delicious, with the bright sour tang characteristic of wild fruit. “I pier nar márar, Estel.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>The berries are good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The elf tossed three in quick succession towards his dark-haired friend. “Come, try them”.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Estel reacted quickly - he caught the first two cherries in his hand, and made a move to catch the third directly in his mouth. Misjudging the distance slightly, he found himself head-butting the fruit away instead. Legolas laughed at the clumsy motion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The sun was in my eyes,” came the feeble excuse, and his friend’s laughter only grew louder. “I am certain I could catch it, given another opportunity…” Estel sought a chance at redemption. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Smiling, Legolas threw another cherry towards him in a high arc. This time he caught the berry in his mouth triumphantly. Chewing slowly and spitting out the pit in a nearby bush, he agreed with the elf’s assessment of the fruit: “They are indeed very good - it is the perfect time of year for them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finding amusement in the game of catch, Legolas decided to goad his friend into continuing it, “Your success rate at catching these is still quite low in my eyes, Estel - only one out of two? Your brothers would not let you hear the end of it if I told them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dark eyebrows were raised. “Throw another one then.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Needing no further encouragement, the elf started throwing more cherries. At first, they came slowly, and in high arcs - an easy enough target to snatch out of the air. Estel was having far too much success in this task for the elf’s liking, and Legolas quickened his throws a little bit, so that the occasional cherry would bounce off Estel’s face or arms. This only increased his determination, and he tried to catch with even more fervour. Now thoroughly enjoying their little game, Legolas threw the berries increasingly erratically - switching directions so that Estel had to dash left and right in the clearing, and varying the pace so that sometimes one berry would land prior to the one launched before it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The game devolved quickly from there, with the speed of the cherries quickening until the elf was simply pelting the ranger with the fruit. Now being thrown at speed, the cherries began to burst instead of simply bouncing, each little projectile leaving a splash of red juice on the ranger. Realising defeat, the ranger stopped any attempt to catch the berries and started simply trying to bat them away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Á pusta, Legolas!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please stop! </span>
  </em>
  <span>The ranger laughed. “I surrender, I surrender!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hail of cherries showed no sign of slowing, nor did the elf’s laughter which echoed in the clearing.</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Peace, my friend!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A cherry splattered on Estel’s tunic, staining his shoulder in dark reddish-purple. Another hit him square in the forehead, the juice creating an illusion of a bruise. “Sí pustá!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop now! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hint of genuine annoyance began to creep into his voice. He was realising he would now have to wash the tunic, for there is no way that Elrond would tolerate him walking around in this speckled garb. Sensing that the onslaught was not being slowed at his words, he chose retaliatory tactics instead. Quickly reaching up to a tree branch, he roughly pulled down a handful of berries - not caring if they became mashed - and tackled the elf. Knowing that the retaliation was only fair, Legolas did not resist this too hard - at least not until he found the berries being smeared unceremoniously against his head, Estel’s intentions clearly being to create the biggest mess possible. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wrestling from the rangers grasp, Legolas held his hands up in defeat. “Peace, peace!” He conceded. Breathing hard, the two friends stared at each other for a still second, before both bursting out in hearty laughter. They both looked a sorry state, but the childish exchange left them in good spirits. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They found a perch in one of the white-wooded trees, now calmly discussing the best way of getting cleaned up before facing Lord Elrond or the twins, all of whom they were certain would have some choice words about their current appearance. They mused whether bathing in the river would aid them or simply make them look half-drowned on top of everything else, and debated sneaking via the rooftops to the bath-house. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the middle of their light conversation, which had hitherto been interrupted only by the occasional pause to eat a cherry, the two friends suddenly fell silent, their keen senses urging them to listen. Some 30 metres to their left, they heard the distinct sound of footsteps - they sounded elvish, but the gait was heavy and uneven, as if the walker was strongly limping. The late afternoon sun seemed to somehow grow cold as the two friends started towards the sound, needing to share nothing but a knowing glance to know the other’s intentions. Silently, they left through the trees towards the limping creature, hearing ragged breath as they drew closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the figure came into view, Legolas gasped and jumped down onto the path towards it. “Isiltirmo! What has befallen you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elf - for it was indeed an elf limping down the path - looked up to meet the prince’s eyes. When he tried to speak, his voice was laboured. “My lord…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Isiltirmo had been part of his father’s escort. The uniform he wore was now torn and stained. A large gash was evident in his leg, responsible for his heavy gait. Several other scratches and injuries were apparent upon the elf, not least of which was a black arrow which still stuck out of his left shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, we will get you to Imladris and the Houses of Healing!” Legolas beckoned Isiltirmo to continue towards him, but the red-haired elf stopped in his tracks. He tried to hold eye-contact with his prince, a question evident in his mind, but he faltered when he tried to speak and his eyes looked unfocused. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what of my father, and the others? Are they safe? Should we send a search party?” While he saw the other elf’s weakened state, Legolas knew the questions were too urgent to withhold, and worry surged in his heart for his father.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thranduil… Safe…” Isiltirmo managed to murmur, before his eyes glazed over completely and he collapsed, saved from hitting the ground only by the quick reaction of his prince.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Concern knitted Legolas’s brow as he caught his kinsman in his arms. Estel quickly appeared by his side, and Legolas stepped back to allow the ranger’s healing hands to tend to the injured elf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, the man faltered. He had spent many hours tending to the sick at his foster father’s side, but he always had the luxury of Elrond’s millenia of experience to back up his actions. Facing a grievously injured patient in the middle of the woods alone was quite a different experience, and a few tense seconds rolled on where Estel felt unable to move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas’s keen eyes caught the barely perceptible shaking of the man’s hands, and he was suddenly struck by the man’s youth - somehow more keenly so now than during their childish antics at the grove. At that age, he himself would have been considered barely an elfling, and would not have been able to even conceive of having to face such a situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man’s training overrode his trepidation, and Estel was quickly found kneeling next to Isiltirmo. His first priority was the wound on the elf’s leg - it was bleeding heavily, the fabric around it soaked in red. Ripping a shred of fabric from his tunic, Estel stemmed the bleeding. He felt around the wound, and the tattered skin he found spoke to him of a roughly hewn serrated weapon. He hoped it was merely the blood loss which now rendered his patient unconscious, and that there was no fouler substance now binding the Firstborn to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With another shred from his tunic, he wiped the skin around the gash. His earlier hope was quickly dashed, as the skin around the injury was an unnatural-looking purple, with the darkness of poison spreading like spider legs in the surrounding veins. The elf needed to return to the houses of healing quickly, for an unknown poison was a danger worth fearing for even a Firstborn, as there were substances whose effects even immortal resilience could not stay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having bound the wound well enough for the journey, Estel next turned his attention to the arrow sticking out of the elf’s shoulder. This thankfully did not appear to have hit anything vital, and the skin around the puncture did not share the discolouration of the leg wound. Deciding not to dislodge the foreign body for fear of worsening the bleeding, he instead simply cautiously snapped the tail of the arrow off so that it would not risk catching on anything during the journey back. Quickly examining the rest of the elf, he found several more scratches, but these had already clotted and showed no sign of the poison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is no sense in dallying further; my father will have far better herbs with which to treat the wounds than we could gather here. I have done what I can to stabilise him until home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas regarded the man with quiet admiration. Estel’s voice betrayed none of his earlier nervousness, and he had tended to the patient with the skill and sureness of one many times his age.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After giving the man a nod of appreciation, Legolas delicately picked up his incapacitated kinsman. The group walked down the road as swiftly as they dared, trying to avoid jostling the wounded elf too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within an hour, they reached the arched gates of the city. A lone sentinel jumped to his feet when he saw them, clearly disturbed at the sight in front of him. His eyes rested for several seconds on each of the party in turn, and he seemed stunned into silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hark, Filikion! Isiltirmo is in dire need of my father’s aid. Please, send word.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation, and turned towards the city centre. He took off at a speed that a mortal would easily consider a sprint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel and Legolas continued after him at a much more measured pace, and found themselves face to face with a worried Lord Elrond and a party of his healers before long. They had barely reached the halfway point to the houses of healing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf-lord’s sharp eyes quickly triaged the situation: “Take Isiltirmo, the twins can begin to dress his wounds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond motioned forward two of the elves in his company, and they gently took Isiltirmo from Legolas, laying him out on a cotton litter and carrying him away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ai, what has happened to you, young ones...” said Elrond, stepping close to the pair in front of him. He gingerly laid a hand on Estel’s forehead, on a purple-red splatter which he perceived to be a bruise. Turning to Legolas, he extended his other hand to carefully cup the side of the Sindar elf’s face, where his pale blonde hair was stained a similar reddish hue. Worry filled his heart as he saw that the elf and the man - both of whom he loved as sons - were covered in these unnerving stains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf and man in turn were confused. “Isiltirmo-“ Estel began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isiltirmo is being tended to,” Elrond cut him off in a firm and reassuring tone, “but I must know what harm has befallen you, as it chills my heart to see you both so battered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not considering themselves particularly battered, the friends shared a sideways glance, trying to piece together what disturbed their lord so. In looking at each other, they recalled something they had quite forgotten in their journey home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The cherries</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As they realised that berry-stains had in context been taken as injury, they could not help but be amused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knowing his father’s temperament well, Estel had the foresight to drop his head before breaking into a smile, hiding behind a tangled curtain of brown hair. Legolas unfortunately lacked this sense, and his ill-timed smile caused Elrond’s eyebrows to arch, the countenance of a healer quickly being replaced by that of a less-than-impressed lord.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having recomposed himself, Estel raised his head and tried to re-assure his father, “Be at peace, we are uninjured. Forgive our unruly appearance, our encounter with Isiltirmo was preceded by an encounter with…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel struggled to maintain his air of dignity while being stared down by the now-narrow gaze of the elvish lord. “With some… Cherries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sympathetic hands that still rested on their faces turned on them quickly, giving them each a light slap across the head before returning to the sides of the exasperated Lord Elrond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fools! Filikion bursts into my chambers, speaking of mine and Thranduil’s sons having done battle, carrying a wounded ally and themselves looking barely better off... and I instead discover you are a mere pair of elflings who have not yet identified quite how one should consume a cherry!” Elrond speaks loudly, his voice easily carrying in the wind, audible to any curious enough to listen in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have scared half the town - now go and wash! And change! I do not wish to see you until you have made yourselves presentable”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Father, please, allow us to first see Isiltirmo, for he is-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Safe in the hands of our most capable healers,” Elrond interrupted Estel’s plea. “I would like you there when he wakes, but I would like your appearances to be befitting of the Heir of Isildur and the Prince of Mirkwood when he does.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Calming somewhat, Elrond asked, “Is there anything that the healers need to know when tending to him, that you may have noticed when binding his wounds?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Poison.” Estel replied, and concern returned to Elrond’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of what sort, I could not tell you,” continued Estel, “but I could see a dark irritation spreading around the wound on his leg, which is his most severe injury.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did not bear witness to the attack,” clarified Legolas. “We came upon him long after he had become injured, and had been walking a way on his own. It is lucky that we found him when we did, as his strength failed shortly after he saw us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what of the rest of his company? Do we know what fate has befallen them? Perhaps I should be arranging a search-party.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas’s face stiffened at the thought of his father’s company being in similar danger. He voiced his next thoughts carefully: “While I know not the fate of the company, I think I would advise against venturing out, my lord. The only words Isiltirmo spoke before unconsciousness claimed him were that my father was safe. Had something ill befallen the entire company, he would have sought to warn me. Instead he chose to re-assure, leading me to think he means for us to avoid charging blindly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf-prince’s voice grew more confident with each word. “Nay, let us not return to the woods where an unknown danger lies. I am confident that this is not what Isiltirmo would wish. Let us wait for him to wake, so that we may better understand what has happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond considered this, and after a brief moment agreed. “I believe you speak truly, it would be foolhardy to send anyone into danger blindly if we have been told expressedly that no one is in need of immediate aid.  Thank you both. I would like your presence in the houses of healing after-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held up a hand as he saw the two friends immediately make towards the houses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>After</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have made yourselves look respectable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that the elf-lord turned and began to make his way up the stone-cut stairs, while Estel and Legolas slunk to the bath-house. They had better sense than to continue to argue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We do not look </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.” Estel complained as they made their way there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My friend, you could pass for a wandering beggar who has not seen soap nor looking-glass in many months,” said Legolas with a light laugh, “as, admittedly, could I!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having bathed and changed, the pair re-joined Isiltirmo. Some colour had returned to his skin from the various concoctions that were being either slathered on his skin or poured expertly down his throat, but he had not yet awoken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How fares he?” Legolas asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He is strong, my young prince. He is simply exhausted now, and his body needs time to recover. I do not think that any of his wounds are life-threatening, provided we are able to stop the poison.” Elladan began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother seamlessly took over speaking mid-thought, “It appears that the salve we have prepared is preventing the poison from spreading further, but we have yet to make the effects retract. He may be off his feet for several weeks, but I would expect a return to consciousness within a day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It could have been far worse had he been allowed to further bleed, Estel. His wounds were bound skilfully.” Elrond had come up behind the man and the elf, and praised his foster son’s skills. Estel smiled in response, proud to receive his father’s approval.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With their patient’s wounds bound and treated, Elrond and the twins departed, leaving the pair of friends with Isiltirmo to wait. They settled in, Legolas perched on the windowsill and Estel on a chair near the bed, and waited. The injured elf slept for many hours, and it was well after dusk, when Estel was beginning to himself struggle to fight sleep, that Isiltirmo began to stir. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Legolas, Estel…” came the weak voice of the elf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are here, my friend,” assured the prince.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I seem to find myself in Imladris,” mused Isiltirmo, almost to himself, “thus I must surmise you brought me here? Thank you, my lords, I am glad that I encountered you when I did, for my strength had been waning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think nothing of it. We are glad to hear your voice again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they could ask him anything further, the twins shooed Legolas and Estel away in order to re-examine their patient, and even managed to coax him into consuming a hot healing soup. Elrond joined to observe halfway through their routine, and was pleased to see the patient was alert and seemed to overall be mending easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They did worry over his leg - the infection had neither worsened nor lessened, and the patient informed them of a constant throbbing pain he felt in it. He was frightened to discover he could barely move the limb, but the healers assured him that it was early yet, and encouraged him to give it time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the healing routine complete, the twins left the room, leaving Isiltirmo in the company of Elrond, Estel, and Legolas, and muttered a barely-heard warning not to over-stretch the patient.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come friend,” said Elrond. “We have been eagerly awaiting your awakening. Tell us of the journey of you and your company after leaving Imladris.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf considered his thoughts carefully a moment, then began his retelling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We rode hard when we left and reached the mountain pass in the late afternoon. While we would ordinarily camp this side of the pass, we found ourselves feeling unsettled. None of us could name what instilled this sense of dread, but we all felt it, and so we decided to carry on riding well into the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The High Pass after dusk took on an evil air, and we felt shadows around us. I was certain we were not alone - every time I turned my head, I would catch the briefest glimpse of something, or somethings, creeping in the periphery of my vision. Our party rode largely in silence, so we could easily hear when strange whispers would fill the night. The air as well was foul - ripe with orc-stench or something of that ilk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only after midnight, when we had put some distance between us and the dark pass, we gained the confidence to pitch camp in some trees nearby. We all agreed that something was amiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I know this pass is well travelled, and I worried that those shadows may not stay simple shadows were a smaller or more mortal company to attempt passage. Imladris, my lord, is far closer to the pass than Mirkwood, and we agreed that you needed to be warned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I put myself forward to act as messenger, to return to Imladris to bring you these tidings. Thranduil was hesitant to let me leave alone, but I argued that as a lone traveller I would have a much better chance of sneaking by unnoticed. Confident that the king was far enough away to be out of danger, I turned back and attempted to again cross the pass in the dark. I had nearly made it through, but ai! I was ambushed. Though I made my best attempt at stealth, what lay in those shadows had keen senses, and I found myself fighting off several goblins and odd men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goblins alone would have quite surprised me - they do not frequently dare venture this close to elf lands, nor do they have particular motivation to ambush travellers in the night at random.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The men surprised and unnerved me even more. Before doing battle, I tried to speak with them, to appeal to their kinder nature but ai, Elrond, they seemed un-hearing. If they had not had such excellent aim when attacking me I would have said them to be un-seeing as well, for their eyes seemed so unfocused and blank. They seemed like shells, husks. As if the fëar had been stripped from their mortal shells, which were left to be puppeteered by some unnamable force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unqüa atani</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unqüatani. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hollow men</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or so I would call them. They told me not their purpose, but they seemed to sense mine, and sought to stop my journey. I fought them with all my strength, but in truth it is by sheer luck that I am not now sitting in the Halls of Mandos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The party grimaced at this admission.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There were 5 goblins, and 3 unqüatani. The goblins I slayed with my knife, but the numbers were overwhelming and I took an arrow to the chest while doing so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I had taken out the goblins, I ran, for I dared not face the three men. They seemed not to have any instinct to preserve themselves, and such reckless fighting was sure to result in casualties - for both sides. The men followed me out of the pass, and a faster one caught up with me as I reached the forest, for I was already growing weak from the arrow-wound. The man who caught me gave me this wound you see on my leg, and the blade burned my flesh like fire when it struck. The Valar must have been smiling kindly on me that evening however, as I managed to turn the fight on this unqüatan and slay him. The others seemed hesitant to stray further from the pass, particularly seeing the loss of their friend, and so I was able to continue to run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hours blurred together after that, the effects of my wounds compounding, and I once again thank any Vala that may be listening that the young prince and man found me when they did, as I fear what my fate could have been in that forest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mood in the room was dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is most troubling news indeed,” said Elrond. “And you know nothing of the purpose of these… these hollow men?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not much beyond what I have already told you my lord. They did not speak. But they appear dangerous, and I sensed they were linked to a greater power.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then we will need to confront this power, for it must be great indeed to take residence so close to our borders. For now however, I must thank you deeply for the message and implore you to please rest, as we have sapped enough of your strength.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Legolas, Estel, and Elrond sat in the elf-lord’s study, Isiltirmo’s tale leaving a dark mood hanging over the party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unqüatan.” Legolas’s brow was knitted. “I have never heard of such things, but if they are as Isiltirmo recounts, something evil is at play. To strip a fëa from a being…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, Legolas, we cannot be sure that this is exactly what they are. Many things in this world could cause a man to appear possessed - perhaps they are simply overly loyal followers of some fell lord.” Elrond attempted to reassure the prince. However, he too was concerned by the tidings. “Hollow or not, these men taking control of the pass does not bode well. First orcs begin to wander our lands, and now we see our own kin attacked on well-travelled roads. The enemy grows bold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We cannot allow such a bold intrusion.” said Estel. The man was outraged, even more so than the elves were, for he had not seen darkness venture this deep into his homeland during his lifetime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Much as I appreciate the hospitality of your house, Lord Elrond, I will need to journey home at some point, which seems ill-advised to do while the pass is controlled by some faceless foe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, they cannot be allowed to stay,” agreed Elrond. “I only wish Isiltirmo had been able to tell us more about this force. We know not how many there are, nor what they are aiming to accomplish by taking the pass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, and Estel and Legolas shared a glance. They sensed that they were of one mind about the course of action needed, but knew they must choose their words carefully; the elf-lord would not be thrilled at their proposal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps… Perhaps Legolas and I should go on a scouting-mission?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond’s dislike of this idea was evident on his face. Having just tended to one victim of the unqüatani, he was not keen to have his foster son and the prince of Mirkwood run head-first into the same danger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Without gaining further information, we would struggle to assemble an appropriate force to tackle this threat,” pointed out Legolas. “With just two of us, we could use stealth to gain intelligence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We seek not to confront this foe, only to better understand the nature of what we are facing.” Estel added to the prince’s argument.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond did not argue, as he knew that their thinking was sound, and that the two were well placed to conduct the investigation. “I do not disagree. We need this information to launch an appropriate response.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf-lord stood up and began to pace in his study as he continued, “I must ask you both sincerely however, to exercise caution. As you yourself have said, you are not seeking to confront the foe, only to understand them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uncomfortable memories flashed through his head. It had been little over a year since this pair had had a particularly eventful misadventure breaking up a band of wandering bandits. While they succeeded at that particular mission, Estel had been injured in the encounter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond could see the pair’s return to Imladris clearly in his mind’s eye; two riders returning on one horse, a dark-haired man sitting limp in front of an ashen faced elf, the pair not slowing within the city gates and riding hard directly to the houses of healing. The man had been pierced by a sword, and was shivering from both blood loss and infection by the time he reached his father. The nights that followed were long and difficult for Elrond, spent tending to his son and praying that he would not succumb to the injury. The Mirkwood prince too stayed by the man’s side until he awoke, overcome with misplaced guilt at having failed to prevent the incident, and filled with fear from having been faced with his friend’s mortality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, Elrond was not keen to repeat such events. “I would like you both to return in one piece. Avoid detection, and gather what information you </span>
  <em>
    <span>safely</span>
  </em>
  <span> can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas and Estel could plainly see in Elrond’s face that he was remembering the incident with the bandits, and it was not a fond memory for either of them either. Estel shuddered to think how close a call that had been, but he was confident that his abilities had grown since then, and felt sure that he would not end up in the same position. Legolas too, felt that they would avoid that outcome; seeing his friend so injured had been devastating, and he was determined that he would not allow something like this to pass again, even if he would have to jump in front of the blade himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The enemy will never even know that we have paid them a visit.” assured Estel. “I propose we leave at dawn, on foot to avoid having to hide the horses when we arrive, as it is only a day’s march.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would second this plan - we will spy on whatever shadows are lurking, and return to Imladris within 3 days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elrond nodded. “So be it. If you have not returned within 3 days, I shall send a party after you. For now, go take an evening-meal and rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first rays of Anar shone over the hills and illuminated a beautiful morning. The air was crisp, and dew glittered on the trees and grass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas and Estel stood at the gates of the city, wearing travelling-cloaks of deep green and bearing arms they hoped they would not need to use. Elrond bade them farewell after giving them another stern warning about avoiding trouble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first half of the journey was mostly spent in silence, both individuals lost in thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel’s thoughts were mostly on the mission at hand. He was mapping out the layout of the pass in his head, trying to think of where the unqüatani may be hiding, and what possible routes there may be to observe them - without being observed in return. He knew of a cave that could be found off a pathway a short way into the pass. This seemed the most likely location to pitch a camp, as while a few other side-paths existed, they were all narrow tributaries which quickly looped back to the main pass. However, if the enemy indeed lurked in the shallow cave, Estel worried that their scouting mission may prove difficult, as the pathway to the cave was a narrow crevasse in the rock, with little room to conceal oneself until one reached the cave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas was pondering the significance of what they were fighting on a grander scale. For many months now, there had been talk of a growing shadow, and he was glad for the opportunity to confront it head-on. He did not like facing a foe he could not name, and was growing weary of hearing of seemingly random orc attacks and wandering wargs. Perhaps this could be a turning point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Composing on the spot, he began to sing quietly as they walked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A clue in the dark, a foe to be fought</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A trail we can finally follow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A new hope will spark, to cure all the rot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bring hope of a brighter tomorrow</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Farewell to the orcs, the goblins, the wargs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And any dark masters you serve</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And soon you will face my bow and my swords</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So you meet the fate you deserve</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice was clear, as most elvish voices are, and he somehow sang in harmony with the morning’s birdsong. The first time he sang the song, it was perhaps more slowly than the lyrics would have desired, with occasional pauses as he carefully chose words for the next line. Then each time he repeated it, his confidence grew and the melody developed. The tune and tempo could best be characterised as “if you had asked a hobbit to compose a battle-song” - it was in a major key, was quick and rhythmic, and had little embellishment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel enjoyed the elf’s singing, though by elvish standards his lyrics could be considered a touch clumsy. While his friend was undeniably capable of weaving a tune, he was unlikely to be remembered as a great songsmith of his age. Estel was starting to enjoy the song slightly less by the 10th time he had heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And soon you will face my bow and my swords</span>
  </em>
  <span>”, but he would not have dreamed of asking the elf to stop, as he sensed that the song was a much-needed outlet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a time, the singing died down, and they walked in silence again. However, before long, the elf started singing once more. This time, the song was sadder, slower, and had more of the typical embellishments present in elvish arias. The song was also more familiar. Estel recognised the melody, for he had heard his father singing these words not too long ago. They sounded somehow alien coming from the younger elf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A wood that once was green and fair</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of faceless darkness reeks</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Foul whispers, orc-stench stain the air</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The breeze of violence speaks</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ai! The peaceful days are done</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ai! Our race begins to fade</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll stay until the course is run</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Until our allies need no aid</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our foes seem filled with strength anew</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>While we only diminish</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like cornered prey, our options few</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Until the fiery finish</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ai! The peaceful days are done</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ai! Our race begins to fade</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll stay until the course is run</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Until our allies need no aid</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not put too much stock in those words, Legolas. There are many things which my father sang of which in the end did not come to pass”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All the same, the words ring true to much of what we have been seeing. I worry, my friend. I worry that this present threat is but a warning of what is to come. I worry that before long, our world will be at war, torn apart by forces that we are only beginning to sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Legolas, I dislike the threat as much as you do - it still fills me with outrage that some band has had the audacity to claim our pass. This is all far too close to home for my liking. But I feel this is a single incident, some over-emboldened followers of darkness overstepping their bounds. We will drive them out! And the world will right itself before long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas hoped the man was right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair marched on and soon Anar was low in the sky. They were perhaps only an hour from the mouth of the pass when Legolas noticed a faint sound. Footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pattering some 10 metres behind them was a pair of small feet. The elf was careful not to change his gait or turn around, not wanting to alert the pursuer that their presence was known. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel had not heard the footsteps, light as they were, but he suddenly felt his friend gently squeeze his arm. Something was amiss. Listening more closely to the woods, he also became aware of the pattering feet. He casually checked that his sword was within easy reach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Estel, dinner. We should stop. For food. Now.” Legolas said, uncharacteristically ineloquently. He intended to observe what their follower would do if they stopped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel caught his friend’s intent, but could not help but smile at the elf’s utter inability to make pretend. He hoped that their pursuer was not well-versed in the ways of elves - if they were, Legolas’s awkward invitation may as well have been the statement “Estel, I think we are being followed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no discernible change in the footsteps following the announcement of dinner, but once the friends stopped by the tree, the pattering quickly fell silent. The friends could see movement in some bushes nearby, as something tried to conceal itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not entirely confident as to what the plan was from there, Estel dropped his pack and made as if to sit down. He did not finish the motion. Legolas, evidently having different ideas, moved with a speed that surprised even Estel and pounced at the bushes with cat-like agility. Estel heard a brief scuffle, then the elf emerged from the bushes, grinning triumphantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking at Legolas now, Estel was suddenly reminded of a fishing trip on which his father had sent him some time ago with some rangers. He had this image in his head of one of the men standing on the dock, proudly holding a very large trout by its tail. This image was now echoed in front of him, with a blonde elf instead of a dark-haired man, and instead of the fish - a wriggling and very frightened-looking goblin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you any rope, my friend?” Legolas asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel retrieved a fine rope from his travelling pack, and they bound the creature to a tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose this may make our mission a touch easier,” said Estel. “Having a captive to question may eliminate the need entirely to venture into their base.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If one trusts the words of a goblin.” The elf looked sceptical. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If one </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets </span>
  </em>
  <span>any words out a goblin.” Estel was quite conscious that the creature had not yet said anything. Switching to the common tongue, he addressed the creature.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Identify yourself, goblin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The creature narrowed its eyes and said nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas joined Estel in the interrogation, crouching down and staring the goblin directly in its eyes, “It would be wise to follow my friend’s instructions. You are a trespasser in this land, and you are now a captive. I am certain that even a wretched goblin brain can grasp that this is a very perilous position to be in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin squirmed uncomfortably under Legolas’s gaze but said nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He is scared of you, we can use that.” Estel said in Sindarin. He paused for a moment, considering his next move. “Draw your blade.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas kept his face stoic, conscious that the goblin would be trying to interpret their conversation, but he could not keep the horror out of this voice: “Estel, he is our captive, and he has not made any attempt to harm us. Surely you cannot intend for us to…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man bristled slightly at the elf’s insinuation. “Of course not, what do you take me for? I merely intend to frighten the creature. I suspect that his own race is less than merciful to captives, so he should break easily at the threat. If we make you seem frightening enough I am sure he will be more than willing to tell us what we need to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goblins </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>weak to such tricks - they are not exactly known for their critical thinking.” Legolas agreed, then drew one of his twin daggers, trying to make the action as menacing as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin struggled desperately against his restraints. He had just witnessed his two captors exchange tense words in a strange tongue, and now the fair one was drawing what could only be a magical weapon - he had never seen a blade that looked so sharp and fine, and it seemed to glow a faint otherworldly blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel began a dramatic speech to the creature.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suggest you start speaking. My friend here, Úmëamornië, longs to have his blade taste goblin blood again. He is the bringer of darkness to goblin-folk, and has purged your kin from many lands. I have seen him once in action; he invaded a dark, dank cave, which a tribe of your kind had taken as their own. He crept along the walls, unseen and unheard. He scuttled across the ceiling like a spider, before dropping into the midst of 50 goblins, his knives slashing through neck after neck like butter. Those who tried to escape, he picked off with arrows as his bow sung a song of death! Speak! Or you will meet the same fate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas fought hard to keep his face stoic, trying to embody the character “Evil Darkness, Slayer of Goblins'' which Estel was describing to the goblin. He was fighting very hard to keep from laughing at how outlandish both the name and invented backstory were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ridiculous tale was working. The goblins eyes grew wider and wider as Estel continued to speak, until he cried out “Hránzin! I am Hránzin, scout and servant of Nárendúr.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas and Estel shared a satisfied glance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking back at the goblin, Estel repeated his name slowly: “Hránzin.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held the creature’s gaze for several long moments, in which the goblin looked as if it was trying to wish itself into another plane.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And tell me Hránzin, how is it you find yourself so far into elvish lands?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I travel with my company. I follow Nárendúr.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who is this Nárendur?” Legolas chimed in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this, the goblin pulled his lips firmly shut. Legolas fell back into character and began to twirl his knife between his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not make me say! He will kill me! He does not know mercy nor reason!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas and Aragorn merely stared at the goblin, unimpressed. Silence weighed too heavily in the air, so the goblin resumed his protests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not make me speak! He is a cruel master! He drags us through missions we care not for. He promised us riches, and power, and so we pledged ourselves to his service. He lied. We wander stupidly through elf-forests, always the stupid elf-forests. We say, ‘let us go back to the deep mines’, we say ‘we want gold and food and maybe to rule some other goblins”, but still he does not listen to our wants! Still we get dragged through elf-forests, and many of us do not survive the dangers at which he throws us. He cares not in the slightest for our lives, and many perish in his service. Yet we dare not try and escape, for if we get caught...” The goblin drifted off, the implication clear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair very nearly felt sympathy, as it was plain that the goblin held no stake in the invasion of the pass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what is the purpose of these… these missions in elf-forests of which you speak?” Estel asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know not! Him and the strange man-folk that follow him, they lead the important parts of our missions. We goblins are left to just ‘guard this’, ‘follow that’... And even then, never when it is important!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strange Man-folk. I suppose these would be the unqüatani of which Isiltirmo spoke?” Leglas commented in Sindarin. Switching back to Common, he implored: “Tell me more about these man-folk, Hránzin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin shuddered. “Most unnerving they are. Rarely sleep, never talk. We call them Spooks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas leaned in, intrigued. “And why do you call them Spooks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because they spooks us.” The goblin shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel chuckled as the elf’s face fell. It was quickly becoming evident that the goblin had limited insight to bring. He decided to re-direct the questioning to more practical matters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The rest of your company. Where are they camped?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In the rocky little cave in the pass. We find the path, the third path in the pass, down we go, and there is a cave! Not as deep as the ones we long for, but deep and winding enough that our company can sleep well, and our master can hole himself away all on his lonesome in some deeper chamber.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how many are your company?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin looked nervous at this question again, and his brow furrowed as he tried counting under his breath, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>One, no two… and then twenty… and then more….”. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hránzin did seem to have some sort of methodology in his counting, but it was not inspiring a great deal of faith. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have somewhere between 23 and 227 goblins, and between 5 and 74 Spooks.” Hránzin declared, proudly. He was smiling in the manner of a young student who had just given a correct answer when quizzed by a particularly demanding tutor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“23 and 227? That is a rather large range, master goblin.” Estel remarked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin’s face fell, and he started whispering numbers under his breath again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hránzin, if you had 3 lots of 5 gold coins, plus 4 more gold coins on top of that, how many gold coins would you have?” Legolas asked the goblin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“3 lots of…” the goblin looked truly frightened again, his face as contorted as it had been when listening to Estel’s tale of Legolas’s goblin-slaying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“3 lots of 5, plus 4 more.” Legolas repeated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What followed was a load of frenzied muttering and counting on fingers - at least in so far as he could still use them while being tied to the tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“28?” came the final response, though there was no conviction behind the number.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He cannot even count. I do not think there is anything more of value that he can tell us,” said Legolas in Sindarin while stepping away from the captive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I tend to agree with you,” Estel responded in kind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf frowned at the bound goblin. “We cannot release him. He will surely go running back to his master and warn him of our presence. Perhaps we should take him back to Imladris- while his information is incomplete, it has given us a good base to work from, and we could bring together a party to confront this Nárendur. Perhaps your father has even heard of this villain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel considered the elf’s words. Legolas continued, “We could leave now and walk through the night - avoid the risk that someone will go looking for Hránzin. Isil is almost full and shines brightly, and we could be back by dawn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel replied thoughtfully: “I do agree that Hránzin should be brought back to Imladris. And yet, I do not think it is time for us to return. I would rather like to have a look at the pass, to write the lie of the land to my memory so that we would have a complete plan of action. We have not yet even examined the pass, which is what we set out to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas nodded, “I admit, I too have a desire to further explore the area. You are right that there is more information to be gained; perhaps returning now would be over-cautious. May I suggest we camp here for the night then? It is far enough from the pass that we should not be at any risk of discovery. In the morning we can find somewhere to bind Hránzin while we explore, and we will journey back that afternoon or next.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is a sound plan. Come then, let us sup and sleep. The tree above Hránzin looks comfortable enough for us to spend the night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair shared a quiet evening meal of waybread and some foraged fruit, and they found places to sleep in the boughs of the tree that their captive was bound to. Feeling less need for rest, Legolas took the first watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Staring at the moon, the elf began to sing a slow, soft lullaby. However, he did not get further than two lines, before the goblin quite spoiled the moment by attempting to sing along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblin did not know the words, or speak the language, but was making a valiant attempt to join in the tune. His croaky voice contrasted sharply with the elf’s sweet tones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isil la-la-la lorna lorn la-la-la elen li-li cala” the creature spewed a string of nonsense, mimicking some words or sounds he thought he heard</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas shouted a half-hearted instruction for the goblin to be silent, but he supposed he could not deny the creature a song - painful though it was to listen to - since he himself took great pleasure in an evening tune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The singing, if it can be called that, continued for a few minutes. Then the elf heard a branch break in the bushes. Suddenly alert, he snapped a much harsher instruction at their captive to be silent. In the newfound silence, he realised with growing horror that he could now hear movement from many sides, and heavy breathing in the darkness. He mentally cursed himself for allowing the foul creature below him to sing, as he realised this must have been a cover to allow its allies to get into position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel was attempting to sleep on the branch below him, and Legolas bent down to gently squeeze his hand and get his attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Estel… We are surrounded.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Estel… We are surrounded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel’s eyes flew open. Hránzin’s singing had kept sleep from him, and he was glad of that fact, as it meant that he was still alert when he heard Legolas’s whispered warning. With the goblin now silent beneath them, the pair could hear footsteps approaching from all sides. Many of the footsteps were small, of Hránzin’s kin, but there were at least 4 sets of heavy man-feet walking alongside them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elf and man shared a knowing glance, and tried to make their escape through the only path left - up. They sprung into motion, scurrying up the branches, while their sudden movement prompted the enemies to abandon all pretense of stealth and rush towards them. Legolas moved lightly, and had sprung to the next tree quicker than goblin or hollow-man could have tracked. Estel climbed after him, and though he was obviously agile and well-trained, he did not have the otherworldly light-footedness of his friend and his movements were easier to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There.” shouted one of the unquatani. Its voice was deep and gravely, and lacked any tonal inflection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas turned back, realising he had pulled ahead of his friend, and witnessed a hail of arrows fly at Estel. The goblins had fired at the unquatan’s word. Legolas felt his throat tighten as the rough projectiles descended. But goblin-aim was poor, and Estel was swift, leaping out of the arrows’ trajectory and onto a nearby branch. Legolas breathed easier for a moment; the man was running towards him, quickly closing the gap between them. This reprieve however was short-lived, as another hail of arrows rained down, this time just ahead of Estel, forcing the man to stop short to avoid the barrage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf watched with mounting horror as the sudden stop caused the man to lose his footing and he fell from the tree. He caught himself on a lower branch, but could barely hold the position for a few seconds before he was forced to drop to the ground to avoid a throwing-axe. Drawing his sword, he stood ready to face the enemies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas flew through the trees back to where the man stood, drawing his bow as he ran and thinning the horde by a few goblins by the time he arrived. He dropped gracefully through the branches to join the man on the ground. Estel was fending off attacks from no less than six goblins at once, years of diligent training evident in every graceful deflection of a blow. More of the dark vermin were scurrying towards him, and Legolas drew his twin daggers to aid his friend in the fight, knowing too well that even Estel’s exceptional martial prowess had its limits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a dance the friends knew well. Back to back and steps in sync they fought, cutting down beast after beast. Estel’s longsword swung in calculated arcs, while Legolas’s twin blades seemed to glitter in the moonlight as the elf spun and dodged like a deadly whirlwind. The ground was becoming wet with goblin blood by the time the unquatani decided to join the battle, realising this fight was not a task they could entrust to their minions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two of the hollow-men faced each of the fair friends. Estel was surprised by the dexterity of his new foes. Their heavy tread and wide broadswords would have suggested a cumbersome - if strong - opponent, but they sidestepped his first attacks easily. Undeterred, he continued to swing at them, and managed to catch an unquatan deeply in the leg with his blade. Estel was again surprised when this injury did not seem to phase his foe. Deep red blood spurted from the hollow-man’s leg, the artery plainly severed, and yet the unquatan continued his attacks as if he did not even feel the blow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweat poured from Estel’s brow as he fought furiously to match his opponents’ fervor in the fight, while said opponents fought with dry foreheads, seemingly propelled by some unearthly force rather than the stamina of man. A minute or two after the slash to the unquatan’s leg, the hollow man finally seemed to be faltering, unable to avoid the effects of exsanguination as he had those of pain. The sight brought hope to Estel as it evidenced that his foes were indeed mortal. He took advantage of the weakness, and struck his sword across the unquatan’s throat. The first hollow-man fell, but this did not deter his comrade, who reacted to his loss with nothing stronger than a grunt of annoyance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas too was finding the battle to be turning in his favour. He had managed to wound both of his foes, though his strikes hadn’t hit anything vital, and he was easily avoiding their retaliatory strikes. He could have happily continued to duel both the men, but was finding his attention increasingly drawn by the goblins, which were once again swarming around his feet. The small creatures had initially fallen back to make way for their masters, but seeing one of the unquatani felled by Estel summoned them to re-join the battle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goblin-goblin-unquatan, goblin-goblin-unquatan. 1-2-3, 1-2-3. The elf struck on each count of the imaginary rhythm, keeping time in a deadly waltz. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Estel, and saw that the man too was kicking away goblins in between swings of his sword. However, he had not yet found as effective a rhythm to fend off the goblins as Legolas had, and the elf’s heart lurched as he saw one of the wretched beings slash a dagger across Estel’s calf. A cry of pain escaped the man’s lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf quickly disengaged from the two foes he was fighting and moved towards his friend. Estel’s attention was on his freshly acquired leg wound, and Legolas could see his unquatan using this opportunity to draw back his sword, preparing a meticulous strike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The action threw Legolas back in time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sword was buried in Estel’s stomach, sticking out of him like some grim skewer. The sword’s wielder lay still on the ground, having met a swift demise at a green-fletched arrow which was now sticking through his eyelid. Legolas was still caught in battle, but the sight in his periphery of his dark-haired friend falling to his knees filled his heart with anger and grief. The elf slashed through the remaining foes with unbridled fury, a light glowing in his eyes which struck fear into any bandits still standing. The decimated band felt as if they were facing some demi-god come to earth, and soon began to abandon the fight and flee into the woods.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With the bandits gone, Legolas rushed to Estel, willing him to still be alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The man’s breathing was ragged. He looked profoundly mortal. Legolas had always been aware of his friend’s mortality of course, but he had thus far avoided having to face it - while he knew that Estel was doomed to someday age and fade, the elf had never considered the possibility that the man may not even </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>have </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>the opportunity to grow old. Somehow, he had taken the man’s limited years as a guarantee. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That guarantee seemed to be dissipating with every pulse of blood that was leaking from the man’s abdomen. Legolas carefully extracted the sword, and put pressure on the wound as he bound it tightly so that the man could be moved. He was whispering prayers to every higher being he could name. The ride back to Imladris was the longest of his life, and the minutes passed slower still when the man grew completely limp in his arms. An evil thought whispered to Legolas that he was riding with a corpse, but he pushed that dark voice to the back of his mind, held Estel tight, and did not stop riding until he stood at the steps of the houses of healing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas could not endure that again. Seeing a blade aimed at the distracted Estel, he threw himself into the path of the blow. The gesture proved unnecessary as Estel noticed the danger in time and ducked out of the way, but by then it was too late for the elf to change his course. The blade that was intended for Estel instead pierced Legolas’s left shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is said that extreme heat and cold feel the same. Legolas could attest to this, as he could not have told you whether the pain that tore through him was white-hot or ice-cold. The blade seemed to freeze as it entered him, and but a throbbing fire radiated away from the entry point. He felt the sword sink deep, grinding against bone, and his vision grew blurred and black around the edges. He could hear Estel calling out his name in a strange, half-muted voice. He tried to reply, to reassure his friend that the wound was surely superficial, but his lips disobeyed him and the words did not form. Through sheer force of will he remained standing, but he felt the dagger fall from his left hand.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At hearing the elf’s name cried out, the energy on the battlefield suddenly changed. One of the unquatan’s eyes widened in recognition, and its commanding voice boomed across the battlefield. “Cease! Cease! He names the King’s son. Take them alive.” The three standing unquatani turned on Estel, clearly perceiving no further threat from the elf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fear, rage, and guilt now coursed through the Estel’s veins in equal measure. He channelled all three emotions into a last furious stand against the unquatani, determined to avoid capture so he could help his friend. He ignored the pain in his calf. His blade was ringing as he held his ground, and he felt a swell of hope as he managed to catch one of the hollow-men in sword-arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas, still swaying on his feet, saw the valiant stand through blurry eyes. The thought of assisting Estel formed, and Legolas tried to step forward, but instead his knees finally buckled and his face met blood-stained soil. And as the elf fell, the man’s concentration wavered, and he found his sword getting torn from his hand. The unquatani gave no quarter and tackled Estel to the ground, pinning him down next to the elf. His head was pressed into the earth as they bound his arms behind his back and his eyes went to meet Legolas’s. The open blue eyes were unseeing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel’s breathing grew quick with panic. This was wrong. Eyes that normally glittered with life were glazed and cold. Shining elvish skin which usually seemed almost immune to the elements was splattered with mud. Blood was still spreading from the injured shoulder across his tunic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too much blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His wound! Please! If you need him alive, you must tend to him quickly” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel was begging. The unquatani paced wordlessly behind him as long moments ticked by. Then, silently conceding the point, one of them knelt and roughly pressed a bit of cloth into Legolas’s injury to stem the bleeding. As rough hands bound the elf’s wound, Estel winced; the cloth was filthy and promised infection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Legolas winced harder. He was torn back to consciousness by an explosion of agony as they bound his shoulder. He felt a cry of pain build deep in his chest, but his lungs did not have the strength to push the sound from his lips. What escaped was a mere strangled whimper, and with it he fell into blackness again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The unquatan next stepped over to Estel, and examined his leg. The slash where the goblin had cut him was not deep, and was already clotting over, but the hollow-man bound it for good measure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captives were carried to the base, thoroughly bound. Hands, wrists, knees - the unquatani were taking no risks. On the journey there, Estel stubbornly blocked out worry for his friend; if he allowed himself to think of that he would surely be overwhelmed. Instead, he focused on committing every step of the journey to memory, latching on to any detail that may aid their escape, or indeed their triumphant return once they could fetch reinforcements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After around an hour and a half of trekking through thinning forest, the party reached the pass.  Walking into the crevasse, earth turned to stone beneath their feet, and the muddy scurrying of goblin feet turned into a distinct pitter-patter. Estel could hear that the number of pattering feet was far fewer than when they had been ambushed; he could not help but feel satisfied by this, knowing that they had at least been able to dent their enemy’s numbers. They soon turned into an even narrower crack in the stone of the mountain, and followed the path down to a cave. Thet base was exactly where Estel had expected it to be. At least this way they would truly get an insider’s view of it, he thought grimly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The captives were left in a make-shift supply room deep in the cave, while the unquatani and goblins went deeper still to consult with their masters. A pair of nervous-looking goblins were left as guards. They were there more as sentries than anything else, ready to alert the others in case the captives made any attempt at escape - if the captives successfully broke free, these guards alone would be of little consequence, and both parties were very aware of this fact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel searched with his eyes for anything around that may aid them in re-gaining their freedom. He was disappointed to find that his immediate surroundings seemed to contain only sacks and barrels - the supply room was most mundane, and utterly useless for his purposes. Next, he began to try and feel out his restraints, testing the bonds for any give. Alas, they were tied fast, and the only thing the test earned him was a prod from one of the guard’s spear, as he barked an instruction to stop struggling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seemingly out of available actions, Estel could no longer push worry out of his mind, and so he sat and stared at Legolas. A sheen of sweat was apparent on the elf’s brow - worrying, as this was not a common symptom in the Eldar - and his breathing was fast and shallow. Estel wished dearly that he could tend to him, to examine his wound, and ease the pain, and drag him back to the houses of healing, much as the elf had done for him not all too long ago. Looking at the perilous condition of his friend, a sudden wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled that the elf had suggested returning the previous evening, while he had insisted they stay longer. Too, the sword that had pierced the elf’s shoulder had been intended for the man, and the elf had thrown himself in front of the blade. Estel sighed, “Ai, Legolas, what have I done to you, my friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Elvish words, though softly spoken, earned him another prod from the goblin-spear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Estel was exhausted from battle, the trek, and the prospects - or lack thereof - ahead. He could not think of a way to make this end well for them. If the hollow-men or goblins or dark master did not kill them, Elrond surely would on their return, for the sheer foolishness of their choices. And if Elrond did not, then Thranduil gladly would in his stead. And with that slightly delirious thought, Estel slipped into an uneasy sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>